“Strange… I used to think the abundance of curses in Egypt came from the Pharaohs’ arrangements.”

Fatima’s voice echoed softly in the stone chamber as she tilted her flashlight, letting its beam glide across the carved hieroglyphs that seemed almost to shift and pulse in the dim light.

“But now it seems that even in ancient Egypt, this land was already full of curses—and not even the Pharaohs themselves were immune to them.”

Amir shuddered as he stared at the mural depicting Osiris being dismembered. The flickering shadows made him feel as if unseen eyes were watching from the darkness.

“Hey… do you think gods really exist?” he asked uneasily.

“Who knows?” Fatima replied absently, continuing to interpret the inscriptions on the coffin lid.

[In the season when the grains began to sprout, my father died.]

[Before his death, he warned me again and again to have his body embalmed with utmost devotion, so that he might cross through death and finally meet Osiris.]

[I truly believed he had gone mad, like those raving old priests who babble endlessly. But as his son, I did what was asked of me and oversaw all the rites after his death.]

[When the tomb was finally sealed, I knew that I had become the new Pharaoh.]

[I must confess, beyond the sorrow of losing my father, I felt a surge of excitement I could not suppress.]

[Yet once I assumed his power, I soon realized that my throne was far from secure.]

[The kingdoms surrounding ours were all growing restless.]

[The Hittite king, Suppiluliuma, gathered his strength, built an army, and waged war upon Mitanni—destroying it completely alongside the Assyrians.]

[And the Assyrian king, tasting victory, began to send raiding forces against my borders, testing my resolve.]

[I decided I would teach him a lesson.]

“It’s Tutankhamun’s father—Amenhotep IV!” Fatima’s eyes shone with sudden realization. “No wonder his mummy was never found—it’s been hidden beneath his son’s tomb all along!”

Amir blinked, his thoughts going in an entirely different direction. “Wait, why do they all like burying themselves under someone else’s tomb? Counting Ramses II on the surface, that’s three Pharaohs stacked on top of each other!”

“Maybe Tutankhamun and his father weren’t exactly popular,” Fatima shrugged, then leaned closer to the text, reading on.

[Utter nonsense!]

[When I gathered my army to march to war, those foolish priests stopped me, insisting that I must first deal with a more important matter.]

[I asked if they meant matters of governance or the welfare of my people.]

[They told me no—a commoner who lacked faith had told a lie on the day of Thoth’s birth.]

[I could not believe it!]

[They insisted that judging this man’s sin was more important than any war!]

[They said, “Faith in the gods stands above all things!”]

[Even as Pharaoh, the highest among men, I was bound beneath the will of gods—and of these senile priests who spoke in their name.]

[Yet I could not resist them then. I suspended the campaign and allowed the trial to proceed.]

Fatima frowned as she read this passage. “Incredible… the ancient Egyptians valued their faith even above the fate of their nation? That’s something history never mentioned!”

Her voice softened into a whisper, fully absorbed by the writing, as the beam of her flashlight continued across the golden surface.

Behind her, Dawn stood in silence, watching the lines of symbols with narrowed eyes.

“Faith… in the gods?” he murmured under his breath.

[Those priests were all mad.]

[They spread tales of the gods as though they were real, weaving story after story until the people believed.]

[They announced divine taboos, holy days, sacred rituals—holding festivals without end, even if it crippled the kingdom.]

[For the sake of their obsession with eternal life, the Pharaohs ignored the suffering of their people.]

[And my beloved Nefertiti—because of one of their senseless taboos—was burned alive by a curse, merely for standing in the sun while drops of water still clung to her skin.]

[How ridiculous!]

[I have had enough! Eternal life is a delusion, a false sun we can never reach, no matter what golden barge we sail upon.]

[Our faith in the gods has brought us no blessings—only chains, and endless curses.]

[I must… do something.]

Fatima’s voice faded as she reached the final line. She stared down at the coffin lid, lost in thought.

“So this says that Egypt’s endless curses… are tied to their faith in the gods?” she muttered. “And Amenhotep IV tried to abolish the other deities to free Egypt from those curses?”

But how could faith create curses?

If gods truly existed, then these curses came from them—and Amenhotep’s rebellion should have failed. Yet during his reign, his reforms had succeeded for a time.

So… did the gods not exist at all?

But if there were no gods, then how could the priests—many of them sorcerers themselves—have been so devout?

The contradiction made her head spin.

She sighed in disappointment, about to announce that they should open the inner coffin, when she turned—and nearly jumped.

“Bloody hell, what are you doing?” she hissed.

Dawn stood right behind her, eyes half-lidded, a faint smile playing on his pale face. The beam of the flashlight cut across his red irises, making him look like a specter watching from behind a gravestone.

But he was smiling—quietly, almost joyfully.

“Nothing,” he said lightly. “I just figured something out.”

Faith…

As Fatima’s reading replayed in his mind, everything that had once puzzled him began to align.

At last, he understood.

He finally grasped what the so-called world consciousness truly was—and why the Pharaohs had been so devout.

Until now, Dawn had tried to harness natural magic, but he had always felt a deep, instinctive fear toward it.

Ever since the transfiguration that had flung him into this tomb, he’d sensed an unshakable law governing reality—a law that felt alive.

He had wondered: Who dictated these laws? Was there truly a divine will?

Now, at last, he knew.

There were no gods.

There was only belief.

World consciousness—was faith itself. The collective recognition of all living beings.

The Pharaohs had known of natural magic and sought to manipulate it. Their devotion to the gods was not born of fear, but of purpose.

By binding their people’s hearts to belief, they could stir the flow of magic itself—making the myths they invented manifest through sheer conviction.

The “dream of immortality” carved upon the coffin referred to the resurrection promised to every mummy. What began as mere superstition—”if embalmed, the dead will one day return”—became truth through the faith of generations.

Genius.

Dawn trembled.

Unlike Horcruxes, which tore the soul apart, this was a rebirth born from the power of collective belief—a miracle forged by the will of millions.

He began to see it all clearly. Time-Turners could not alter the past because the world believed the past was fixed. Magical transformations held because people believed in them.

Even rituals—they worked because they aligned with shared belief. The Unbreakable Vow drew its power not from the words, but from the universal conviction that oaths must be kept.

The belief of humankind—that was the engine of natural magic.

And the countless curses of Egypt? They were the shadows of faith itself—the reflection of what its people feared and revered.

Dawn’s pupils gleamed as the truth surged within him.

If the world believed that time could change—then perhaps even time itself…

Drip.

A drop of something wet struck the stone floor.

The thought never finished. A blinding pain tore through his chest.

He looked down.

A long, ancient spear had pierced straight through his heart. Blood burst out in scarlet ribbons.

“Dawn!” Fatima’s scream cracked through the silence as she swung her flashlight toward him. His robes were soaked in crimson.

“Hey—kid! You’re bleeding!”

She took a step forward, then froze, fearing another curse. “What’s happening to you?”

Dawn’s lips parted, but only blood came out. He fumbled weakly for his pocket, reaching for a vial of healing potion.

Damn it… why now?!

Every time he uncovered a secret—every time understanding dawned—Anubis struck him down again.

What, does that god just hate me happy?

Wait.

Every time he uncovered a secret…

His eyes widened.

The curse only triggered when he learned more about natural magic!

Of course!

He finally understood.

Ancient Egypt’s faith had left behind a collective belief: “One must not pry into the power of the gods.”

Even now, that belief still lingered in the world’s magic, turning into a curse that punished anyone who sought to understand too deeply.

And the deeper one’s knowledge, the stronger the backlash. No wonder he had dreamed of Anubis the moment he arrived in Egypt.

A low, ghostly clang rang out—like a set of scales coming to rest.

Dawn coughed, spraying blood.

The spectral heart upon Anubis’s scales turned solid—and vanished, taking with it all his strength.

But this time, he had been ready. He emptied the vial of potion down his throat before blacking out, gasping for air as he collapsed to the floor.

When his vision cleared, he froze again.

Anubis was still there.

No…

Not me again—

He grabbed another potion, but before he could uncork it, the jackal-headed god turned away.

Without a glance at Dawn, Anubis raised his spotless spear—

and drove it through Fatima’s chest.

The scales rang again.

This time, the feather of truth outweighed the heart, pressing it down.

Just as he expected.

Dawn narrowed his eyes.

Because Fatima’s understanding of natural magic was shallow, her heart carried less “truth.” The illusionary heart remained weightless—she would survive.

He turned to Amir. Predictably, the man was pale, clutching his chest, gasping for air.

“What… what was that just now?” Fatima whispered after the silence returned. Her voice trembled. She had felt the phantom spear, the pain of her heart being pierced—it had been terrifyingly real.

“Hey, kid,” she said, looking at Dawn. “What do you know?”

Unlike them, Dawn had nearly died—his heart torn from his chest, blood pooling around him.

There had to be a reason.

But Dawn only glanced at her coldly and rose to his feet without a word.

His expression was dark and unreadable. He could already feel it—this time, his heart was reforming slower than before.

One more curse like this, and the potions might stop working altogether.

He clenched his jaw, fury flickering behind his crimson eyes.

___________

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